


There Should Be A Word For That

by inlovewithnight



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Multi, Polyamory, Self-Acceptance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:41:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3851350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired, of course, by <a href="http://grantland.com/features/the-roomies-willie-mitchell-aaron-ekblad/">this article</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Should Be A Word For That

Aaron knew from all the years he’d been in the game that it was normal to be at least a little bit in love with your captain. Even more than a little bit. There was nothing wrong with being in love with your captain. It happened to everybody.

The important thing was to only talk about it in the acceptable ways, about admiration and looking up to him, respect and wanting to be the kind of man he was. Role model; that was the thing you talked about. Not how you looked for him first every time you walked into a room with the team. Not how listening to him talk made your throat kind of hurt and your stomach get all tight.

Aaron was very familiar with the rules. He’d felt it for all of his captains, and he’d seen it in some of his teammates in Barrie when he was the captain. Some of them, they just looked at him all wide-eyed and nervous, and asked him all those extra questions with the careful catch to their voices, and--he got it. He knew what it was all about. He was always kind to them, the kids who looked at him like that.

It was fine to fall in love as long as you were cool about it.

The thing is that Aaron was having a weirdly hard time being cool about Mitchell. Maybe it was because they lived together and he couldn’t be on top of his game all day every day. Maybe he was losing his grip a little bit because of just… everything. The NHL. Everything.

_Something_ weird was going on. That was obvious. Because he was staring at Mitchell too much, and laughing too loudly at his jokes, and thinking about him too much when he wasn’t there. Way too much. He needed to get it together, and soon, or the other guys were going to notice and make fun of him.

Mitchell was just really _nice_. He only yelled and cussed people out when they really deserved it, like if they weren’t even trying to do better, just fucking around. If he could tell you were _trying_ , he didn’t yell. He didn’t let anybody be lazy but he didn’t push just for the sake of pushing, either. When Aaron or the other new kids wanted to push themselves, Mitchell gave them pointers and stuff, but he also sometimes told them to just go the fuck home and take a break.

Aaron wasn’t good at taking breaks. Not at all. But that didn’t piss Mitchell off, either. He just patiently circled around over and over again, nudging him toward at least being still, if he couldn’t relax.

“If you can’t sleep, at least be in bed,” he told Aaron over and over. “Read a book or something. Meg has whole boxes of romance novels. Those should put you to sleep in a hurry.”

Megan would smack him when he said that, and Aaron would smile and nod and try not to think about how awful it would be to read romance novels while he was accidentally thinking about Mitchell and not able to make himself stop.

He couldn’t ask the other guys on the team about this; that would not be cool at all. If he _could_ ask anybody, it would be Sasha Barkov, because then he could blame the confusion on not speaking Russian or Finnish, apologize to him, and run away. Nobody else had a built-in escape valve like that.

He was thinking about it while they watched film before playing the Penguins the first time. About, like, what he would do if Sasha _did_ get what he was talking about, and told him that yeah, totally, he thought about Mitchell sometimes and felt, like, warm and fuzzy and whatever. It would be a relief and also really embarrassing and awful.

He definitely wasn’t going to talk to Sasha.

Just as he thought that, Sasha jabbed his elbow into Aaron’s ribs hard enough to almost knock him out of his chair. “Ow,” Aaron hissed at him. “What the fuck?”

Sasha nodded toward the screen, and Aaron realized everyone was looking at him. “Uh. Sorry.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Coach said flatly. “You can tell us where you’ll go to block Crosby’s line when they come in like this.”

Right. He was supposed to be preparing to get his ass kicked by Crosby. That was the embarrassment of choice today.

**

When they got back to the house, Mitchell caught him in a loose hug, one arm around his shoulders. “You okay, kid? You weren’t yourself back there.”

“Just distracted.” Aaron shrugged, careful not to dislodge Mitchell’s arm. “Maybe I’ll go for a run. Shake it off.”

“You had practice, you don’t really need a run.”

“It’s good for my head, you know?” He shrugged again, this time stepping clear of Mitchell’s touch. “But it’s still pretty hot out, I guess.”

Mitchell was looking at him close and amused, like he was watching a baby acting out. “You can take the dog for a walk. Get some fresh air but not get heat stroke, eh?”

“Yeah.” It was a decent compromise. Aaron sure couldn’t think of anything better. “Yeah, I’ll take him out.”

He took Pinot down toward the beach, walking fast enough that he had to trot along on his little legs. Aaron pushed his earbuds in and brought up a workout playlist on his phone as they walked; he needed as many distractions as he could push at himself.

If feelings were going to mess with hockey, then they had to go. That was the rule. That had _always_ been the rule. He just had to remember how to push all of this out of himself and zero in on what mattered: the game, the puck, the ice. Weird feelings about his teammates couldn’t be allowed.

Pinot stopped to pee on a palm tree, tugging at the leash until Aaron came to a halt. He thumbed the volume up louder on his phone, squinting at the sky. This used to be easy, turning off the inconvenient stuff. But it wasn’t working right today, for some reason. He still felt weird, and his stomach hurt, and he kind of just wanted to go back to the house and talk to Mitchell about it.

Which was the absolute last thing he could do. He couldn’t talk to _anybody_ about it, except maybe Darien, and he didn’t want to bug his brother with this kind of bullshit. Darien had had to listen to way too many of his dumb problems over the years. He didn’t need any more.

“C’mon, Pinot,” he said, pulling the dog away from the bush and getting him moving forward again. “We’ve gotta walk this off.”

**

Aaron got back to the house feeling more grumpy and weird than when he left. On top of that, Pinot was annoyed, too, shooting him a sulky look when he took the leash off, and then hurrying away to hide under the couch.

“Someone’s being a baby about the sun,” Mitchell said, looking at the spotted tail sticking out onto the carpet. “It’s winter, Pinot, man up.”

“You got a little sun-kissed yourself,” Megan said, reaching out to touch Aaron’s face.

“I hope if you’re getting kissed on the beach it’s more exciting than that, kid,” Mitchell said, grinning at them. “There’s something wrong if you’re taking my dog out and not picking up chicks.”

Megan turned to face him, her hand still on Aaron’s cheek. “Oh, is _that_ what the dog is for? How interesting, Mr. Mitchell.”

Aaron pulled back, ducking his head as heat rushed to his face beyond the sting of sun exposure. “I’m gonna go shower.”

Mitchell cocked his head. “You showered at the rink, why do you--”

“I just--I want a damn shower. I’ve got salt on me, and sand, and I just… I’m just gonna take a shower.” Aaron hurried out of the room and down the hall to the guest suite he’d taken over before either of them could say anything else.

He turned the water up too hot and let it pound on him for a few minutes, then turned it down again and bruised his stinging skin with cold. Push things till they hurt, and concentrate on the hurt; that was the best way he knew to stop feelings and let him focus again. He had to focus, or everything was going to go wrong.

He stood shivering in the shower for probably ten minutes, then turned it off and stepped out. He wrapped a towel around his waist and dragged his hands through his hair, staring at his reflection. He looked stupid. Young. Not like a professional. He held the towel together with one hand and turned away, switching the fan off and going back to the bedroom.

He had forgotten that he was the one who had started the pattern of not having boundaries in the house. Mitchell was sitting on his bed, with a look on his face that meant he was waiting to have a conversation about something. Aaron took a guess that it was about being rude and cussing in front of Megan. He hadn’t meant to, but that didn’t make it right.

“Sorry,” he said, gripping the towel more tightly. “I’ll go tell her I’m sorry. After I get dressed.”

Mitchell shook his head sharply, like he was clearing it. “Sorry for what?”

“You know. Out there.” He waved toward the living room. “Cussing at Megan.”

“You didn’t cuss. Did you?”

“I said I wanted a damn shower?” He hated how things turned into questions when he got nervous.

“Oh, that.” Mitchell shrugged. “She says worse than that when she stubs her toe. That’s not anything. Forget about it.”

“Uh. Okay.” Aaron shifted his weight, wishing Mitchell wasn’t sitting between him and his clothes. It was normal in the locker room, everything was normal in the room, but this _wasn’t_ that, this was his bedroom and Mitchell’s house, and that made it…

Well, it made it different.

“Are you okay?” Mitchell asked. “You’ve gone weird on me all of a sudden, the last few days.”

“I’m okay.”

“Is something bugging you? Did you read something shit-talking you online or something?”

Aaron frowned. “Why would anybody shit-talk me? I’m playing really well.”

Mitchell stared at him for a minute. “God grant me the unshakeable confidence of a rookie.”

“First draft pick,” Aaron reminded him, and Mitchell threw a pillow at his face.

“All right, so you’re fine, brat. Message received.” Mitchell stood up and gave Aaron a stern look. “But you tell me if you aren’t, got it? No matter what it is. If something’s bothering you, come to me with it. We’ll figure it out. I’m your fuckin’ mentor.”

“Pretty sure I can figure out fucking without you,” Aaron said, way too weakly, but thank god, Mitchell laughed it off and left the room.

**

Aaron hid away in his room for a few hours, but eventually there was no avoiding it: he was hungry, and Megan didn’t allow food in the bedrooms because of Florida’s freaky giant insects. He was going to have to go to the kitchen.

She was there when he got there, chopping vegetables. “There’s my sous chef,” she said without looking up. “I was wondering.”

“Hey.” He took a protein bar from the pantry and hesitated at the end of the counter. “Sorry about earlier.”

“Hmm?”

“Sorry I got upset.”

“Please, Aaron. We need to remember sometimes that you’re not a kid, you’re a grown adult who doesn’t have to explain his every movement to us.” She brushed the chopped vegetables off the cutting board and into a bowl. “I’ll make sure Willie remembers that.”

“I don’t know about grown adult,” Aaron said.

She smiled faintly, her eyes still on the bowl. “Believe me, you’re about as grown as they come.”

He shrugged and threw the wrapper in the trash can. “How can I help?”

“Nothing right now, I’m going to put these in to roast, but when I start the next part I’ll need you. About half an hour?”

“Sounds good.” He stood there for another moment, watching her get oil and salt from the pantry. “Megan?”

“Yes?”

“Willie’s, uh, he’s still cool with having me here, right?”

She looked up, startled. “Of course. He loves having you here. Where did you get the idea--?”

“I don’t know. Just thinking about stuff, I guess.” He didn’t think Mitchell wanted him gone. He just wanted to hear from someone else that he _didn’t_. He was such a jerk.

“That’s why you don’t get paid for thinking, Aaron,” she said firmly, then winced. “That came out more mean than I meant it to.”

“True, though.” He reached across the counter and took a chunk of carrot from the bowl. “Yell when you need me.”

He retreated to the den and sat at the opposite end of the couch from Mitchell, who was sitting with his legs stretched out and his eyes closed.

“What are we watching?” Aaron asked, letting Pinot hop up into his lap and welcoming him with a quick scratch behind the ears.

“Basketball,” Mitchell said without opening his eyes. “I think. It was basketball when I sat down.”

“Cool.” Aaron glanced at him, then looked back to the screen. “We should take the boat out soon, eh?”

Mitchell grinned. “Kid, if I had my way we’d take the boat out every day.”

“All right. Awesome.” Aaron settled back in his seat, pushing Pinot’s nose aside before the beagle could lick his face. Everything was still okay. He hadn’t messed up anything.

**

Coach gave Mitchell a rest day, which left Aaron a little jealous and a little proud that he could keep up with the pace and not _need_ a rest day. He wasn’t hauling around any injuries or aging joints or anything. He could take it.

Pride only went so far to keep drills from being a drag. The excitement of just getting to be there had worn off, and what was left was the familiar grind. Work hard. Be perfect. Work _harder_. Be _more_ perfect.

If he was honest with himself, he didn’t know how to do anything else. If he had been given the rest day, he probably would’ve just gone to the weight room or found a treadmill or something.

_Hockey makes you boring_ , one of the girls in Barrie had told him once. _You guys are hot and talented and you’re going to be rich as hell someday but, god, you are boring._

He hadn’t been able to think of anything to say to disagree with her.

He leaned into the drills, because that was what he _did_ know how to do. Work hard, be perfect. It killed the necessary portion of the day.

Mitchell had come in for the team meeting before practice, and Aaron had rode in with him as usual without thinking, so he begged a ride home from Barkov. He wasn’t thinking about anything as he walked into the house, dropped his bag in the entryway, and veered toward the kitchen. He wanted a sandwich and a beer, and then he was going to call his agent, and then probably have another sandwich and read the new GQ. It was a good plan and it was probably going to take up the entire rest of the day.

He had the sandwich put together and the beer in his hand when he noticed the sounds coming from the den. Still, he didn’t really think about it; he just took a drink and wandered over to poke his head into the room and see what was going on.

Mitchell was lying on his back on the couch, grinning up at Megan, who straddled his hips with her hands braced on either side of his head. She was smiling, looking down at him, her hair falling in her face. She ducked her head lower and said something, low enough that only Mitchell could hear her; whatever it was, it made him laugh, and his hands slid up under her shirt, hiking it high enough that Aaron could see the pale blue fabric of her bra.

She laughed and pulled her shirt off altogether, exposing skin that had stayed pale despite their time in California and Florida. Mitchell’s hands moved to curve over her breasts, teasing them through the bra, and the soft sound she made was what finally jolted Aaron back to his senses.

He stepped away and hurried down the hall to his room, careful not to make any noise or drop anything until the door was safely closed behind him. _Shit_.

He’d forgotten. How had he forgotten? Married people would, now and then, want to do married people things.

He was so fucking stupid in so many ways.

He sat down on the bed and chugged the beer, closing his eyes against the initial unhappy rush as it hit his stomach, before his body shifted gears and started metabolizing it too fast to feel anything. He could go get another one in a few minutes. And he _would_ , once he calmed the fuck down and his heart stopped thudding in his chest.

He hadn’t _completely_ blown it, he thought, clutching the bottle tightly even after it was empty and the sandwich was gone. Neither of them had noticed him. He still had all the plausible deniability in the world.

Unfortunately that only covered half of his problem, now.

His dumb crush on Mitchell was still a secret and would stay that way, even though now he had the sound of his captain’s low, hot sex laugh in his head, and the exact way he reached for someone when he wanted them. Those were little details that he was going to use to torture himself completely, but they were _additions_ to the situation he already had. They weren’t horrible and new.

No, that stuff was more or less fine. The problem was that now he could picture Megan, too. The way her eyes got all soft and the skin around them crinkled when she smiled. _Her_ low, hot sex laugh. Her skin. Fucking hell, her breasts.

Aaron grabbed for a pillow, held it over his face, and groaned in deep and heartfelt misery.

The thing was, it was normal to be in love with your captain. It was totally okay.

But having the hots for your captain’s _wife_ was deep into shitshow territory.

**

Aaron managed to play it cool for another two weeks. He spent a lot of time in his room, after escaping from conversations by saying he needed a shower. Mitchell and Megan must have thought he was having some kind of body hygiene freakout. He _hoped_ they thought that. Thinking he was being weird was much, much better than suspecting the truth.

He tried to pay more attention to locker room talk, to the acceptable ways to react when the other guys talked about wives or girlfriends. He was pretty sure he wasn’t giving anything away, but if he could act even _more_ normal, if he could find, like, prime unremarkable, that would be even better. Hopefully this was just like breaking down film: pay attention, identify the pattern, design a counterattack.

He took a lot of showers. Honestly, not just as a lie to get out of conversations. He took a _lot_ of showers. It was better than lying on his bed accidentally thinking about his housemates.

He was pretty sure he was being _totally_ cool about things. And then he got hit.

As hits went, it wasn’t too bad; a solid check into the boards, leaving deep bruising but the trainers assured him nothing was broken. “You’re going to hurt tomorrow,” they said cheerfully, and handed him a bottle of painkillers. “Take tomorrow off and go easy the day after. We’ll let the coaches know. Go get some sleep.”

One of the D coaches offered to drive him home, even, so he could take his painkillers in the car. It was great. He was _floating_ by the time he got to the house.

Megan opened the door and sighed. “Oh… kay. All right. Let’s get you to a couch, buddy. Willie, get out here and help me.”

Mitchell walked him to the couch and sat him down, laughing when Aaron immediately slumped over and hid his face against the armrest. “Kid. Seriously?”

Megan sat down next to him on the couch and pet his hair. “Poor Aaron,” she said. “How much did they give you?”

“Probably enough to drop a horse,” Mitchell said, grinning from the end of the couch. “He’s a lightweight.”

“I am not,” Aaron said, keeping his face pressed to the fabric. “I can drink a lot of beer.”

“This isn’t beer, is it?”

“He’s mean.” Aaron hoped Megan could tell he was talking to her now. “He’s _so_ mean.”

“A mean old man,” Megan agreed. “Terrible.”

“So old and mean.”

“Hey,” Mitchell protested. “Don’t gang up on me here.”

“Old and mean and _hot_.” Aaron groaned. “It’s not fair at all, right?” There wasn’t an answer for a moment, and he lifted his head, shifting on the couch to look at her. “Megan? Right?”

She was looking at Mitchell, who looked like he was caught between laughing and wanting to leave the room in a hurry.

“Megan,” Aaron repeated. “Megan. Megan.”

“I heard you, sweetie.” She cleared her throat and patted him on the head again. “Do you need some water?”

“Maybe.” He leaned into her touch. “You’re hot, too. He’s not hotter than you.”

“That’s very nice of you, thank you.”

“I mean it. For real.” Aaron sighed. “But now he’s going to, like, kick me off the team and kill me.”

“He won’t do that.”

“He will. When you get a crush on a teammate’s wife, that’s it, it’s all over.” He waved his hand in the air, demonstrating, like. The end of things. The spot where things ceased to exist. “You get traded to Phoenix or something.”

“They are never going to trade you to Phoenix,” Mitchell said.

“I hope not. I would fucking hate Phoenix.” He blinked at Megan again. “Pardon my language.”

“It’s fine,” Megan said quietly, her hand moving over his hair again, lingering against his forehead. Her hands were really soft. She used fancy lotion and stuff, he’d seen her bringing it in from the car.

“You’re not going to get traded.” Mitchell sat down next to Megan, settling into the last of the cushion space. “I promise, okay?”

“It’s just, like. A crush.” Aaron hoped Mitchell could tell he meant it. “Just a dumb crush.”

“That’s okay.”

“On Megan, too. Just a dumb crush.”

The corner of Mitchell’s mouth twitched. “Okay. That’s fine, too.”

“You’re just both so _nice_ to me. That’s probably why. What’s the thing, Stockholm Syndrome, where you fall in love with people who are nice to you.”

Megan laughed, then coughed. “That’s not what Stockholm Syndrome is.”

“What’s the thing I’m doing?”

“Being a normal human being, I think,” Mitchell said. “Sit up, kid. Let’s go get you some water.”

Megan shook her head. “You go get it for him. Don’t make him walk. He’ll trip over the dog and break his neck.”

“I need my neck,” Aaron said. “If I break it I can’t play hockey.”

“Look at this goddamn genius.” Mitchell stood up. “Don’t start making out while I’m gone, you two.”

“I wouldn’t!” Aaron grabbed at Mitchell as he walked by. “Seriously, man, I mean it.”

“He’s kidding.” Megan caught Aaron by the shoulder and pulled him back against the couch. “Willie, tell him you’re kidding.”

“I’m not kidding, babe. No making out while I’m _gone_.”

Aaron didn’t get why that made her laugh when the first time he said it didn’t, but she did, resting her head on her hand that was still on Aaron’s shoulder.

“It’s too bad you won’t remember any of this tomorrow,” she said. “Or if you do, you’ll be all embarrassed and hide from us.”

“I am embarrassed. It’s dumb and rude and, like. My mom says I shouldn’t even be here bothering you and getting in the way.”

“Your mom is wrong, sweetie.”

“She’s never wrong.”

“This time she is.” Megan looked at him for a moment, from so close he could feel her breath on his cheek. “You’re not in the way of anything.”

Mitchell pressed a glass of water into Aaron’s hand. “Drink up. Don’t choke.”

“Never choke,” Aaron mumbled. “I’m good under pressure.”

“Aw, kid.” Mitchell looked at Megan. “How fucking cute is he?”

“Really cute.” She sighed and stood up. “I leave him in your hands.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Mitchell caught her arm. “You don’t want to, like--”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” she said quietly. “Let’s not make this any more complicated tonight.”

“It doesn’t have to be complicated, honey, it’s just goofing around.”

Aaron put the glass down on the table, trying not to let it click. Suddenly the air in the room was really heavy. Thick. He should get out of the way.

“It’s not just…” She checked herself and took a breath. “Not tonight. Put him to bed, okay? Aaron, stop trying to sneak out of here, you’re too big, you can’t even do it when you’re sober. It’s like a Great Dane trying to sneak around. It doesn’t work.”

“I’m Canadian,” Aaron said, holding tight to the back of the couch.

“We know. So is he.” Megan gave Mitchell a look and turned down the hall to their bedroom. “Lay him on his side so he doesn’t choke to death overnight.”

“He’s not on _heroin_ , Meg.”

“I could pass a drug test,” Aaron agreed. “Unless they test for Vicodin.”

Megan closed her eyes tightly. “Please put him to bed.”

“Okay. Okay.” Mitchell put his arm around Aaron’s shoulders and started him toward his room. “We’re going.”

Getting to his room was really difficult, but it was good to have his captain there. “I love you,” Aaron told him. “I really do.”

“That’s great, Ekblad.” Mitchell half-carried him across the room and dropped him on the bed. “You’re going to give Megan a heart attack.”

“I saw you and her making out.”

Mitchell stopped. “When?”

“I dunno. A week or two ago.” Aaron’s eyes really wanted to be closed. “It was pretty. She’s pretty. Pretty… skin.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“You’re pretty, too.”

“Thank you.”

“Your beard. I wish I could grow an awesome one.”

“Please don’t try.” Mitchell sighed and guided Aaron over onto his side. “Go to sleep, kid. Tomorrow’s going to be really weird for you, unless I can talk her into pretending this never happened. Or that you were kidding. Think you can convince her you were kidding?”

“I’m not kidding.” Aaron couldn’t quite open his eyes, but he grabbed around until he found Mitchell’s arm. “I love you both.”

Mitchell was still for a moment, then gently pulled his arm away from Aaron’s hand. “Goddamn it, Aaron, why did you have to say that?” He didn’t sound angry, though, he sounded…

Aaron couldn’t find the words for it.

“Go to sleep,” Mitchell said, and left the room, closing the door hard behind him.

**

Aaron woke up hurting. His shoulder, his arm, down his back; everything that tangentially took some of the impact of hitting the boards. His body was not happy with him.

He sat up slowly, gritting his teeth against the pain and starting in on all the tricks to ignore it. He didn’t have time to feel sorry for himself and take it easy. Today was an off day, so he had no reason not to be back at 100 percent tomorrow. That was how things worked.

There was a glass of water on his bedside table, next to the bottle of painkillers from the trainers. He drank the water and pushed the pills away, letting them fall off the table to the floor. When your body started breaking down, that was when you used the pills to keep you going. If you started it too early, the whole system got screwed.

At least, that’s what all the coaches and trainers in the O had told him. He didn’t have any reason to doubt them.

He counted a slow three and got out of bed, glad that he’d gone to bed fully dressed. If he’d had to get clothes on before he had a chance to move around a little and shake the stiffness off, he would’ve been fucked. As it was, he could go directly out into the house.

Mitchell was in the kitchen, making sandwiches at the table. Aaron came in as he started layering turkey over the mayonnaise and mustard on the bread.

"You're alive," he said, glancing at Aaron. "And you look like shit."

"I'm sore," Aaron muttered. "Is there coffee?"

"You're a few hours late for coffee. But I'll put a new pot on."

Aaron nodded and sat down at the table, rubbing his hands over his face. "I hope I wasn't too annoying last night."

"You don't remember?" Mitchell's back was turned, his voice carefully neutral.

"Not really. They gave me a lot of painkillers."

"Yeah, you were pretty happy. Did you take any this morning?"

"Nah. I can tough it out."

"They wouldn't give them to you if you weren't supposed to take them."

"I'm good. I can handle it."

Mitchell made a sound of approval, still fading the coffee maker. Aaron watched him for a moment, trying to figure out any hints of what was going on, why Mitchell didn't want to look at him.

"Where's Megan?" he asked finally, rubbing at his sore shoulder.

"She took a spa day. She'll be back tonight." Mitchell straightened up and poured coffee into a clean mug, then one sitting by the sink. He have the first to Aaron, raising his eyebrows. "So we're on our own."

"Cool." Aaron took a sip, wishing he had the first idea where the tension in the air was coming from. Something was wrong, he could feel it in his guts and the show tightening of his shoulders, but he couldn't guess what it was.

Something must have happened when he got home. Something that made Mitchell unhappy. There were only so many things that could be.

Shit.

"I thought maybe we could take the boat out," Mitchell said. "Take a little cruise."

"Oh, yeah. Cool." Aaron nodded jerkily and took another drink. "I'm not sure how much help I'll be today? 'Cause of being sore? But I'll do my best."

"It's pretty calm out there today. I can probably handle the boat myself. You just sit and look pretty."

Something felt really wrong here. Aaron's skin was starting to crawl. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Of course." Mitchell leaned back against the counter, slipping one hand into his pocket and bringing his coffee to his mouth with the other. It hid his face and made everything even more... strange. Heightened.

"Why do you ask?" Mitchell said, his eyes fixed on Aaron.

"You seem kinda pissed at me." Aaron hated saying that. He hated feeling like it worse, though. "Did I do something last night?"

Mitchell stared at him for a long moment, then turned away and poured his coffee out in the sink. "Yes and no."

"What?"

"You did something, but I'm not pissed at you. Not really."

"Was I rude to Megan?" That was the least awful of the possibilities crowding Aaron's mind.

"No. No, you were not."

"So... what, then?"

"We'll talk about it on the boat." Mitchell rinsed his mug and turned back to Aaron. "Get dressed and let's go."

Getting dressed, sure enough, hurt like hell. Aaron clenched his jaw harder and pulled on a clean t-shirt and sweats, grabbed a baseball cap from his closet, and went to meet Mitchell out back, where a little path ran from the house to where the boat was docked. The boat was Mitchell’s pride and joy and Aaron would never, ever disrespect it. He just couldn’t quite figure out _why_ they were going out on it today, of all days. Or why Mitchell was being so strange and cryptic about it.

Unless he was planning to kill Aaron once they got out there. Aaron had seen the movies. He knew boat accidents could be untraceable. The currents would sweep him away and disappear him, or… something. The Coast Guard would get involved, but you couldn’t sweep the whole ocean, and he’d never be heard from again.

He obviously had talked all about everything last night. He’d broken the plausible deniability rule of being in love with your captain, and he’d broken the ironclad, unflinching rule of having a crush on a teammate’s wife, and now his mentor was going to murder him and disappear him at sea.

By the time they got to the boat, Aaron was having a little trouble breathing. “Dude. I’m really sorry, okay?”

“I told you, I’m not mad. We just need to talk.”

“Why does it have to be on the boat?”

Mitchell gave him one of those looks like he suddenly saw Aaron as a very young and dumb child. “For privacy.”

“Why do we need privacy?”

“Because if we don’t have it, you’re probably going to try to run away, and I don’t have time for that, kid.”

“Jesus, man.” Aaron took a deep breath. “Are you taking me out there to kill me?”

Mitchell stopped walking and sighed. “No, Aaron. I’m not going to kill you.”

Aaron tried to take some comfort in that. “But you’ve got something important to tell me, and you don’t want me to be able to get away from the conversation.”

“Exactly.”

He was going to have to go out on a limb for the next part, but it wasn’t exactly a difficult limb to find. “And this is about… something I did last night.”

“Yes.” Mitchell stopped at his boat slip and gestured to the steps up onto the craft. “After you.”

Aaron was entirely out of fight, so he went without another word.

**

Mitchell took them out from the coast and then cut the engine, letting them drift easily with the waves. He tipped his head back, looking through his sunglasses at the wide, pale sky and endless sea. “Makes you feel alive, doesn’t it? The ocean’s the only thing, you know?”

Aaron was from Ontario. He had no particular feelings regarding the ocean.

Mitchell went to the cooler he’d brought on board and produced a beer for each of them. “Drink up,” he said, “and stop looking like I’m going to stab you.”

“I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that a couple times.” Mitchell took a long drink, half-emptying his bottle. “So I’m going to explain it to you. I need you to sit quiet and not try to argue with me or change the story or… whatever, just don’t say anything at all until I’m done, okay?”

Aaron nodded, sitting up a little straighter like they were in the room and Mitchell was singling him out for something in front of the guys. He knew how to act for mentoring.

“Last night you said you were in love with me and Megan.” Mitchell held up his hand, reminding Aaron of the rules. “Nobody is pissed at you for that. It was very sweet. You were happy and affectionate and stoned out of your mind. It was cute, actually.”

Aaron waited for him to go on, but Mitchell fell quiet and looked out at the ocean again. They sat and drank for long moments before Mitchell looked at him again.

“The thing is, you were really emphatic that it was _both_ of us. Like. Me, too.”

Aaron gripped his bottle tighter and managed a small, tight nod. Mitchell nodded in response, acknowledging what they both knew, the thing that was taking up all the space and air between them.

“And I get falling for Megan. Anybody with eyes is gonna fall for Megan. My wife is pretty much the best woman in the world.”

Aaron wasn’t sure if he was supposed to respond to that or not. He took another drink and sat still instead, sticking to the letter of the rules Mitchell had laid down.

“But me?” Mitchell shook his head. “You’ve gotta be careful with that shit, Aaron.”

“I _have_ been careful with it.” So much for the rules, then. “You didn’t figure it out til I told you, so obviously I _was_ careful.”

Mitchell’s eyes narrowed slightly. “First of all, I told you not to talk. Second of all…” He took another drink. “Yeah, fine, you’re right. You did good.”

“I’m not going to do anything,” Aaron said. “I’m not stupid. I’ll mind my own business, or if you want me to go live with Thornton or something, I will. Or I’ll tell them I’m ready for my own place. I could get a beach condo. It would be awesome. My brother could come live with me.”

“Stop talking.” Mitchell rubbed his forehead. “We’re not going to send you away.”

“You don’t have to _send_ me, I’ll just go.”

“We want you to stay!” Mitchell stood up and walked to the railing. “Jesus, kid, I’m trying to talk here and you keep…”

“I’m trying to apologize for being inappropriate!”

“Megan doesn’t think it’s inappropriate!”

Aaron stopped, closing his mouth hard enough that his teeth clicked. “What?”

Mitchell drained the rest of his beer and tossed the bottle into the ocean. “Her exact words were that having you live with us hasn’t been like having a kid, it’s been like having a boyfriend, from the beginning.”

“Not on purpose,” Aaron said. “I haven’t been doing it on purpose, I swear.”

“I know. That’s part of _why_ it’s been like that, because it’s been so natural. Easy.”

“I’ll move in with Thornton. It’ll be fine.”

“We _don’t want you to leave_.” Mitchell’s voice rose almost to a shout, cutting over the sound of the waves.

“Then what _do_ you want me to do?”

Mitchell exhaled roughly and put his hands on his hips, staring at the ocean for a moment longer before he turned to Aaron. “We want you to stay, and Meg wants to… to try.”

Aaron was still holding his beer bottle, his fingers cramping from twisting so tightly around the glass. “Try having me as a boyfriend?”

Mitchell leaned back against the railing and nodded, watching Aaron’s face.

“But what about you?” Aaron asked.

“She’s my wife.”

“Obviously.”

Mitchell ignored him. “And you’re this… talented as hell kid the front office put into my life. And you _are_ a kid, you’re innocent, but you look like you’re about thirty-five, and you’re all fucking sweet and enthusiastic and you actually listen to me, unlike everyone else I know including my dog, and you look at me like you think I’m awesome, and apparently you think I’m hot, and it’s all just really fucking…”

“I do not look like I’m thirty-five.”

“Jesus, Aaron.” Mitchell exhaled roughly and glared at him. “I’ve never done anything with a guy. But Meg wants to try. And you… you. I think, maybe. I think I could try with you.”

Aaron forced himself to ease his grip on the bottle and set it on the deck between his feet. “This is not what I expected.”

“I know.”

“I thought you were going to kill me and throw me to the sharks.”

“I wouldn’t sabotage the team like that.”

Aaron put his head down between his knees. “I need a couple minutes, okay? This is a lot to, like. Think about.”

“I know.” Mitchell crossed the deck slowly, his shoes stopping just in Aaron’s field of vision. “Nobody’s going to force anything on you, okay? You can tell us to fuck off and we’ll leave you alone.”

“I’d never tell you to fuck off.” Aaron made himself look up, clenching his hands into fists as he met Mitchell’s eyes. “But I don’t know how to, like… I mean, I’ve only dated one girl at a time, you know?”

“I’m not sure if this is dating. I don’t think there’s a word for it.”

“Cheating?”

“It can’t be cheating if everybody’s in on it, right? That’s what Meg said.”

“That makes sense, I guess.” Aaron looked back toward land. “Is she going to be waiting for us when we get back?”

“I’m supposed to text her. She won’t come home till we’re done with the whole manly conversation side of it.”

Aaron nodded slowly. “I need another beer. Or a couple.”

“Shit, yes.” Mitchell went back to the cooler. “Good thinking.”

**

They got pretty drunk on the boat. Aaron stretched out on the deck and Mitchell told him war stories from back in the day. Aaron closed his eyes and imagined having a career like that, going around the league. He would be ready for it, for sure.

Right now, though, he was glad to be in Florida, to have a contract and a chance to get everything together. Another year or two, he’d be ready to take on the league. Florida was a good place to learn.

It had been a great place to live, this season, staying with the Mitchells and getting mentored and taught how to keep up with it all. And now maybe this other thing.

If this got screwed up, he was definitely going to have to leave Florida in a hurry. Maybe he should call Bobby and give him a heads-up on that.

He caught himself before he asked Mitchell what he thought of that idea. Don’t give anyone a heads-up on this, Aaron. Don’t mention it at all.

Mitchell finally looked at his watch and sighed. “We should head back. Meg’s going to be worried that we’re dead.”

“And Pinot’s going to need out.”

“Oh, shit.” Mitchell groaned and went back to start the engine, and Aaron dragged himself upright, looking out over the water as they turned back toward land.

When they got back to the house, Mitchell took the dog out and Aaron got in the shower, washing off the salt and sweat and feeling the familiar sting of sunburn settling into his skin. He was nervous; he felt the twist in his stomach and recognized what it meant, but he could keep it distant for now. If this was a game, he would hold the nerves at bay until he could use the energy on the ice. He wasn’t sure when he would have to feel this, or if he could turn it into anything useful.

Only one way to find out.

He turned the water off and wrapped himself in a towel, stopping in front of the mirror to study himself. He was definitely going to have to do something with his hair. A good shirt, too, a button-down. And real pants. He wanted to show that he was taking this seriously. Not a tie, though, that would be going _too_ far.

When he was ready he kind of looked like Darien going to his grad school interview, or one of the assistant coaches. Mitchell was probably going to laugh at him. If he stayed in his room any longer it would be weird, though.

He fist-bumped himself in the mirror and walked out to the living room, barefoot in his suit pants and dress shirt, only catching on to the fundamental ridiculousness when Pinot saw him and launched himself off the couch in excitement. Aaron caught him in mid-air, clutching him to his chest and watching a shower of dog hair settle over his shirt.

“The amazing beagle rocket,” Megan said, smiling at him from the armchair. “Nice catch, Aaron.”

“Thanks.” He clutched Pinot tighter, looking at her. She was wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt, her hair pulled back loosely from her face; he had definitely overshot the mark on presentation. But she was smiling, looking at him, so that was something. “How was the spa?”

“It was nice. Willie told me you guys had fun on the boat.”

Fun wasn’t really the word Aaron would’ve gone for. “Yeah, it was cool.”

“He also told me the two of you drank all the beer, so we’ll have wine with dinner, if that’s all right?”

“Uh.” Wine really wasn’t Aaron’s thing. But he never argued with Megan, and definitely not today. “Whatever you say.”

She laughed and started to say something, cutting off as Mitchell came into the room from the kitchen. He smiled at her and then looked at Aaron, his eyebrows rising toward his hair. “A little dressed up for dinner, kid.”

“Shut up,” Aaron said, feeling his face flush red.

“Is the dog part of the outfit or can you put him down somewhere?”

“He likes me,” Aaron said pointedly.

“He likes everyone. He licks his own ass.”

“Stop, stop,” Megan said, getting up from her chair. “I’m opening the wine. You two… behave yourselves. Act like adults. And put the dog down, Aaron.”

Aaron set Pinot on the floor and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“How much gel did you put in your hair?” Mitchell asked.

“Shut up.”

“I’m messing with you.” Mitchell punched him in the shoulder. “Just relax, okay?”

“I don’t know how to do this, you know? I’ve only ever dated teenagers. And one of them at a time.”

“Step one is to _relax_.”

Aaron took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “What’s step two?”

“Hit the wine hard.”

He was no help at all. But Aaron couldn’t argue with the strategy.

**

Megan placed two bottles of wine on the coffee table, looked at Aaron, and went back to the kitchen for a third. She came back with that in one hand and a cluster of wine glasses in the other, lining them up on the table and filling them each generously.

“How does this work?” Aaron asked, watching her hands on the bottle and glasses.

“You tell us.” She handed him and Mitchell each a glass and sat down at the end of the couch, curling her legs under herself. “What do you like?”

He shrugged and took a gulp of wine. It was sour and warm and made his tongue want to curl back in his throat. “You know. Normal stuff, I guess.”

“Normal stuff.” She nodded and looked at Mitchell for a moment. “He’s about as helpful as you are.”

“So treat him like he’s me.” Mitchell shrugged. “You’re good at me.”

She made a face at him. “Well, I’ve got you pretty well-trained by now.”

Aaron took another drink and carefully set his glass down on the table. “I can do training. I mean, I can take direction. If that helps. You can tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

Mitchell choked on a laugh, hiding behind his wine glass. “Such a good little rookie.”

Megan shook her head. “I don’t want to make you do things you don’t want to do, Aaron.”

“I can’t think of anything you could tell me to do that I wouldn’t want to.”

“He’s definitely a lot smoother than I am,” Mitchell said. “Making me look bad.”

Aaron glanced at him and saw that Mitchell was gripping his glass tightly, the tendons tensed in his wrist and his neck. He wasn’t as calm about this as he was playing it. Somehow that made Aaron feel slightly better; he wasn’t the only person in this room feeling overwhelmed.

“Maybe you could kiss him first,” he said, nodding toward Mitchell. “And I can, like, watch. I think that’s a little less awkward.” Mitchell shot him a look and Aaron shrugged. “Relatively.”

“You’re probably right.” Megan smiled a little and reached for Mitchell’s hand, twining their fingers together and tugging him closer to her. “Since I’ve got him so well-trained and all.”

Aaron watched them, noting where his hands settled on her body, how her teeth caught his lower lip when they changed the shape of the kiss, the exact place on her neck his mouth landed when he turned his attention to there. He wouldn’t try to replicate it exactly; that would be weird. But he could pay attention and blend it all into his gameplan.

Megan probably wouldn’t like it if he thought about this as being like hockey. He definitely shouldn’t mention it out loud.

She was shifting position on the couch, letting Mitchell settle between her knees and wrapping her legs around him. He did something Aaron couldn’t see—his hands were out of sight, that was annoying, it would be useful to be able to see them—but whatever it was it made Megan make a little noise that broke off into a giggle.

“Slow _down_ , William.”

“I’m a full speed ahead kind of guy.”

“I know, but right now you’re showing off for an audience.” She raised an eyebrow and looked over at Aaron. Her face was flushed, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t just from making out; she was blushing. She had been the one who came up with everything, but she wasn’t 100% sure either.

That made him feel a little better and a little more alarmed at once. If nobody here knew what they were doing, he couldn’t mess it up, but it also meant nobody was _coaching_ this.

So he should probably show some leadership.

“You guys are really… like, wow,” he said. “Gorgeous.”

“He’s just saying that because he hasn’t seen my ass yet,” Mitchell muttered against Megan’s neck.

“No, I mean it.” Aaron stood up and walked over to them, then knelt on the floor beside the couch. “Both of you are so awesome. And hot.”

Mitchell turned his head and looked at him for a moment, and Aaron held his gaze, letting him take the time he needed to weigh this out. Megan’s fingers were combing slowly through her husband’s hair, like she was counting out the time he needed, too. Finally Mitchell took a breath and bared his teeth in a quick grin.

“You’re so fucking overdressed, kid. Take a couple layers off.”

Aaron laughed, more from relief at the crack in the tension than anything else, and ducked his head to focus on unbuttoning his shirt. He could hear the two of them kissing again, soft wet sounds, and he fumbled a few of the buttons for longer than he should have before he got his shirt off and dropped it on the floor. He reached for the fly of his pants, but before he could undo it Megan caught him by the bicep.

“Come here, okay?”

He did as he was told, shuffling on his knees across the bit of space between him and the couch. Her hand slid up to his shoulder, then curved around the back of his neck and guided him down to kiss her.

The angle was weird, and Megan tasted like the wine, but it was a good kiss. Aaron closed his eyes and went with it, letting her control the contact.

He could feel Mitchell’s body close by, touching Megan and within a breath of touching him. He could hear him breathing, too, rough and quick. Aaron didn’t look, but he could imagine Mitchell’s eyes on them, the heat in them, maybe a little bit of challenge. Maybe he wanted to put Aaron in his place, or maybe he wanted to touch him, too. It was hard to tell which idea made Aaron’s heart beat faster or his dick harder, still trapped in his suit pants. He didn’t know what he wanted Mitchell to want, exactly. But he wanted there to be _something_ , and he wanted it to be because of him.

Megan broke away from him. “Is this good, Aaron?”

“Yeah,” he said, moving closer to the couch, hoping to get more of his skin against her, and Mitchell if he could. He wanted them to touch him, wanted it in a low deep craving. “Yeah, it’s good. Really good.”

Her hand moved from his neck to his chest in a slow caress. “You’re as hairy as Willie,” she said, laughing a little. “I love it.”

“It’s because we’re Canadian,” Aaron said, and Mitchell laughed, too, moving on the couch so he could kiss Megan’s shoulder and neck. She pulled Aaron in again, and he put one arm on the couch to brace himself, his forearm pressed up against Mitchell’s side. He imagined touching both of them to be like closing a circuit, letting electricity flow through, lighting up the room.

Mitchell moved again, easing Megan’s legs apart and sliding his hand up between them. Aaron felt the shiver run through Megan’s body as Mitchell touched her, and the little gasp that passed from her mouth to his. He could feel Mitchell’s movement where his arm touched Mitchell, could extrapolate the steady tease and then thrust of his fingers from the muscle cues that echoed through the rest of his body.

It was kind of insanely hot, the combination of feeling things and guessing from the echoes things left behind. He dropped his free hand to his lap, palming himself roughly through the fabric of his suit pants.

He got himself off fast, before Megan broke away to bite her lip, twist her head to the side, and come, her hand closing tight on Mitchell’s arm. Aaron watched them, the wet spot on his pants still warm under his hand. Just being close to them, he still felt electric, and _good_ , like he was part of things even while watching. Like he was on this team.

They kissed, and he kept watching, pulling back a little from the couch for a better angle when Megan reached down and took Mitchell’s dick in her hand. She stroked him off fast and tight, and Aaron paid close attention, because he might need to know that sometime, might need to know either how she used her hand or how Mitchell liked to be touched. There was no way to know which one might come in useful, or when, or in what situation, but he would _know_.

It wasn’t until Mitchell had slumped down against Megan on the couch, heavy on top of her and breathing hard, and she was rubbing his back in soft little arcs, that Aaron realized the circle had shrunk down again, and he was outside it. This wasn’t his place to be anymore, not now.

Megan glanced at him, one eyebrow lifted in a question, and he nodded, climbing to his feet as carefully as he could and knowing it was still clumsy. He was always clumsy when he caught himself being stupid.

He retreated back down the hall to his bedroom, stripping out of his suit pants and boxers and wiping himself down with tissues before he put on sweats and a t-shirt and crawled into bed. He needed a distraction, fast, something solid that would fill up his head before he overthought everything and wrecked it.

He texted his buddies back home, and then his brother, and slipped his earbuds in while he waited for them to reply. He put on his loudest playlist and played along with his fingers on the mattress, tapping out the basslines to keep from trying to hear anything in the rest of the house. He would find out if they were going to talk about it or not tomorrow.

**

They didn’t talk about it. Aaron wasn’t really surprised. Megan wasn’t around when he got breakfast and coffee, and Mitchell didn’t say anything on the drive to the rink, so Aaron kept his mouth shut, too.

Mitchell didn’t say _anything_. Not even a comment on the weather or a joke about Aaron’s hair. Nothing. So that was weird and probably some kind of bad sign.

It was a heavy practice day, a lot of drills and fundamentals. Aaron loved that kind of practice; it had been drilled into him for so long that he could practically do it in his sleep. He didn’t have to think, he could just go along on muscle memory.

It was working out great until Mitchell passed him during a change-up and checked him into the boards.

He wasn’t expecting the hit—wasn’t expecting _anything_ , they weren’t doing any drills with hitting yet—so he took it clumsy, almost falling off his feet. Mitchell just kept skating like nothing happened.

Aaron stared after him for a minute, trying to guess if it had been a mistake or an accident; maybe Mitchell’s skate had caught and he’d fallen into Aaron, instead of a deliberate hit. But then Mitchell would’ve stopped and apologized, not just skated away.

A couple of people gave him weird looks, and Barkov gestured at him, asking if he was okay in the casual rink shorthand, so Aaron shook it off and went back to his place in the line. It was weird but not weird enough to make a whole _thing_ about it. He’d figure it out later, ask Mitchell about it in the car if nothing else.

Mitchell ignored him for the next two drills, then bumped his shoulder in another change-up and cut him off in a scrimmage, close enough that Aaron did go ass over teakettle onto the ice.

“Dude,” he finally said. “What the hell?”

Mitchell stopped and looked down at him for a minute, impassive, then seemed to relent a little, sighing and cutting his eyes toward where the D coaches were standing in a huddle and frowning at them. He shifted his stick and held his hand out to Aaron, pulling him back up to his feet.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Why are you going after me today?”

Mitchell flashed him a look with a distinct warning to it. “Talk about it after practice.”

“Yeah, fine.” Aaron scooped up his own stick and pushed off to rejoin his line. “Just get off my ass the rest of this, eh?”

Mitchell did, not even looking at him the rest of practice. All of the guys knew something was weird now, and they kept giving Aaron questioning looks or making little gestures at him or just skating up close and saying “Hey, kid,” all expectantly, waiting for him to fill in the blank. Which he couldn’t do, because he didn’t know what was going on. There wasn’t really any reason for Mitchell to be pissed at him.

Well, there was _one_ reason, but it didn’t make any sense, because it had been Mitchell’s idea in the first place, or even if it was Megan’s, Mitchell was the one who _talked Aaron into it_ , Aaron would _never_ have done that on his own, and if Mitchell had somehow forgotten that part, then… then…

Then that was really unfair, just straight-up fucking unfair, and if it meant Aaron was going to have to move out after all and billet with Thornton he was going to be so annoyed about all of this, forever.

When they were dismissed, he headed for the locker room, but checked himself when Mitchell called out his name.

“Ekblad. C’mere. Cool down with me.”

They’d already cooled down, but Aaron turned and skated back to him anyway. Captains got deference even if they were being dicks. “Yeah?”

Mitchell started skating a slow lap, and Aaron fell in next to him, letting the silence fall into place. Two of the assistant coaches were still hanging back and watching them. Aaron waited until they were at the far end of the rink, where a low voice wouldn’t carry far, before he asked.

“You pissed at me for yesterday?”

Mitchell sighed. “Fuck’s sake.”

“I can’t think of any other reason you’d be knocking my ass around in front of everybody.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Because it was your idea. You’re the one who talked me into it.” Aaron tried to catch himself, tried to remind himself that he had a right to be annoyed but not angry, and this was veering awfully close to angry. “I didn’t do anything without permission, you know?”

“I know. I know that.” Mitchell looked down the length of the ice as they rounded the corner. “Jesus, nosy fucks still hanging around.”

“I won’t do any of it again, okay? Pretend it never happened. It was a mistake, or whatever.”

“It’s not that simple,” Mitchell said again. “Look, we’ll talk about it in the car. Get away from the babysitters.”

“They want to make sure you’re not gonna knock me over again. Maybe break my leg this time.”

“Don’t be such a baby. I barely hit you at all.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Besides, you’re young. Your bones heal fast.” Mitchell pulled ahead and skated to the tunnel leading back to the locker rooms before Aaron could decide if that was a bad joke or a threat. Not that it couldn’t be both, he supposed.

**

They didn’t go back to the house or, as Aaron half expected, to the boat. Mitchell drove them to a coffee place with a drive-through window and then parked at the end of the lot, facing a row of palm trees.

Aaron didn’t really want the coffee, but he drank it anyway, making himself sip slowly as he stared out the window. “So,” he said after a minute, when Mitchell didn’t say anything. “It was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

“It wasn’t a mistake. But it’s…” Mitchell sighed, and Aaron watched his reflection in the window as he ran his hand through his hair and waved his coffee cup around like that would somehow translate into words. “It’s complicated, you know?”

“It’s not that complicated. You were okay with it in theory, but when I was actually touching your wife you got jealous and didn’t want that happening anymore.”

Mitchell took a drink, his brow furrowed for a moment. “That’s part of it,” he said. “I’m not gonna lie, actually watching you kiss her was different from just thinking about it.”

“So we won’t do it again. I get it. It’s fine.”

“I said that’s _part_ of it. Not all of it.”

“I don’t need to know all of it. It’s none of my business.”

“Jesus, Aaron, shut up and let me finish talking.”

Aaron clenched his jaw and stared out the window, focusing as hard as he could on a little red pickup truck that was not going to fit into the space its driver was wedging it into. There was a space big enough for it like ten feet down. Why did people insist on trying to force things that were never going to work?

“It wasn’t just feeling weird about watching you kiss Megan,” Mitchell said, calling a part of Aaron’s attention back into their own car. “It was kind of wanting to kiss you, too.”

Aaron blinked, the red truck forgotten. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me.”

“But…” Aaron frowned at him. “I’m a guy.”

“Yeah. I know.” Mitchell shook his head. “I’ve never done anything with a guy.”

“Neither have I.”

“You said I was hot. You said all that shit about loving me.”

“Well, yeah.” Aaron shifted in his seat so he was facing Mitchell, his back to the window. “I do love you. And you are hot. You’re the captain and you’re amazing and you’re just… just so…” He gestured helplessly. “You _are_ hot, and I want to, like, make you proud of me and I watch you all the time and it’s just that thing that happens, you know? Being in love with the captain. Or one of the other players who’s really good, being in love with them. It’s not, like, a _thing_ , it’s just… everybody does that.” He stops and frowns again. “Right?”

Mitchell stared at him for what felt like a really long time, then drained the rest of his coffee. “Not everybody, no. Falling in love with guys and staring at them and thinking about them all the time is called being gay.”

“No.” Aaron shook his head, feeling pretty solid on this one. “No, because I think Megan’s hot, too, and a lot of other girls, I was with Claudia for ages and you’ve given me so much shit about the girls on the beach, you know?”

“Then it’s called being bisexual, or whatever, but it’s not something everyone does.”

Aaron sat for a minute, staring down at his cup. “Oh.”

“And apparently I’m kind of that, too, because like I said, I watched you kiss her and I didn’t know which one of you to be jealous of.” Mitchell rubbed at his eyes. “Which is a hell of a thing to have to deal with at my age.”

“So you decided to knock me into the boards?”

“You’re fine, stop being such a baby.”

“I’m not being a baby. I’m confused.”

“Well, join the fucking club.” Mitchell put the car in gear and steered them out of the parking lot. Aaron kept quiet until they were back on the highway leading toward the house.

“So… so what are we going to do, then?”

“I have absolutely no fucking idea.” Mitchell turned the radio on and hit the button to scroll endlessly through stations, his signal that they were done talking for the rest of the trip. Aaron had known him long enough to know these things.

He stared out the window again, watching South Florida go by, wondering what he was supposed to do with any of this. Being bisexual, apparently, whatever that meant. He knew the _theory_ , but what it meant for his actual life, he had no idea. Kissing Mitchell, at some point, maybe. But maybe not, if Mitchell decided he didn’t want to do that once he’d had time to deal with the idea.

Aaron was in a holding pattern, as far as he could tell. He was going to be on the metaphorical bench for a while.

He was really fucking bad at that.

**

Meagan was reading on the couch when they got back to the house. “Hey, boys,” she said, glancing up and catching Mitchell’s hand as he walked by. “You going to be around for dinner?”

“As far as I know,” Mitchell said, twining his fingers with hers for a moment and then pulling free and heading back to the bedroom. She watched him for a moment, then looked up at Aaron.

“You think you’ll be around to be my sous chef? I want to try a new recipe tonight.”

“Sure.” He looked down the hall after Mitchell, then forced a smile for Megan. “Sounds good. I’m gonna go down to the beach for a while, but I’ll be back by dinner for sure.”

“Is everything okay?”

Mitchell hadn’t asked him to lie to her, and he wouldn’t anyway. He liked Megan, a lot, since way before he’d let himself think about her being hot. She shouldn’t be lied to. “He’s having some problems with… uh. Yesterday.”

Her face crumpled for a moment, and he could actually see the point where she caught herself and put her composure back together. “We talked a little this morning, but apparently we need to talk some more.”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t his place to interfere, and right now he didn’t want to be here anyway. “I’ll see you in a couple hours. Sous chef for sure.”

He retreated to his room and changed into a t-shirt and swim trunks, grabbing sandals and a towel from his closet and letting himself out the side door so he wouldn’t even have the temptation of listening down the hallway. He was going to swim against the waves and bodysurf until he was tired, then lay out in the sun for a little, flirt with some cute girls in bikinis, and generally get his mind _off_ all of this confusing shit. He was going to act his damn age for a couple of hours.

Swimming and bodysurfing went okay; fighting the ocean was exactly the kind of exhaustion he needed. He licked the salt off his lips and did some push-ups in the sand, both to enjoy the burn in his muscles and just in case any of the sunbathing girls were looking. It couldn’t hurt.

When he got back to his towel and flopped down to soak up some sun, he realized someone else had set up just a few feet away. Throwing his arm across his forehead for shade, he turned his head to look, hoping it looked more discreet than it felt.

A guy probably about his own age was stretched out on his stomach, flipping slowly through a book with one hand while holding his place with the other. Aaron recognized the point; counting pages till the end of the chapter. It looked like a textbook, and he had a moment of the familiar weirdness of being reminded that he wasn’t like other people his age and had missed out on the chance to ever be.

The guy paused in turning pages and looked directly at Aaron. “Hi.”

“Oh. Hi.” Aaron sat up, rubbing his face like it would do anything to hide how he was blushing at being caught. “Sorry, didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s okay.” He smiled and let his book fall open to the page he’d been holding with his finger, then sat up as well. “Figured I might as well enjoy the weather while I study, if I have to study.”

“What are you studying?”

“This is calculus.” He laughed softly. “You look actually grossed out. It’s okay. I’m Jeff, by the way.”

“Aaron.” They shook hands and Aaron stretched his legs out across the space between their towels. “You go to school around here?”

“Not really. Up in Gainesville, but I’m visiting my sister. You?”

It took Aaron a minute to realize what he meant. He was used to everyone just… knowing what his deal was. He didn’t spend much time with people outside hockey anymore. “Oh. Uh, no. I’m… not in school.”

“Living the beach life? That’s cool. I’m jealous.”

It was the right moment to correct the misunderstanding, tell the truth, be appropriately modest about being in the NHL. He didn’t want to. There wasn’t any reason not to, he just… didn’t want to. And before he thought about it any further than that, he started talking and committed himself to it.

“Yeah, I’m just kind of hanging out right now. I live at a friend’s house nearby. He’s got a boat and stuff, it’s pretty awesome.”

“Nice.” Jeff smiled a little wider. “Where are you from? I can’t quite place your accent.”

“Ontario.” He waited a beat, but the blankness didn’t leave Jeff’s face. “Canada.”

“Oh, wow! Very different from down here.”

It was Aaron’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“I guess I don’t have to ask why you came here. Who _wouldn’t_ , if they lived in Canada?”

Aaron wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, but luckily Jeff didn’t seem to expect him to respond at all. He talked about studying at UF, about his roommates and his fraternity and all kinds of things, and Aaron listened and nodded and gradually noticed how Jeff was noticing him right back.

“Sorry for staring,” Jeff said, cutting himself off mid-story. “You’re just really, wow. Built. You must work out a _lot_.”

“Yeah.” Aaron bit his tongue and shrugged, hoping he was playing it cool. “I guess so.”

“You’ve got a great body.” The look on Jeff’s face was cautious, and Aaron could see tension in his body, but it was hard to hear his voice as anything but… flirty. Oh.

_Oh_.

Aaron looked him over again. He didn’t have the solid body that Aaron usually admired, but maybe that was just the lack of any other options in a locker room? Maybe this kind of skinnier, wirier body was just as good once you tried it out.

If he was going to be bisexual, he might as well try it out.

“Thanks,” he said, letting himself relax into a real smile. “So do you.”

Jeff relaxed, too, digging his fingers into the sand. “You should tell me your routine.”

Aaron was definitely not going to do that. “It’s getting kinda hot. The place I’m staying really is just a little ways over there, if you want to go.”

Jeff was closing up his textbook before Aaron even finished the sentence. “Yeah, totally. Let’s go. Should we grab some beers?”

“We’ve got those.” Aaron rolled up his towel and t-shirt together, determinedly not letting himself think ahead. He’d figure this out on the fly. Game plans all went out the window when you hit the ice anyway, so why bother? He could do this. He could totally do this, whether Mitchell could or not. “Follow me.”

**

Aaron let them in through the side door, catching Pinot in the hallway. “Whoa, hey, don’t go anywhere, you,” he said, scooping the dog up into his arms before he could either start barking or run off outside. “Locked out here by yourself, huh?”

So Megan and Willie must still be talking. Well, that was probably good. He could get Jeff back to his room undetected.

“My room’s back that way,” he said, pointing down the hall. “I’m gonna grab the beer and feed this kid so he doesn’t throw a fit.”

“Don’t take too long,” Jeff said, grinning. “This is a nice house, wow. I thought you meant you and a buddy our age, but your friend is, like, loaded.”

Aaron tried to smile normally, clutching Pinot a little tighter against his chest. Shit. This was way weirder and more complicated than he thought it was going to be. “He does okay. Be right back.”

He filled Pinot’s food and water dishes and gave him a slice of cheese for good measure, then grabbed two beers, popped the caps, and went back to his room. Jeff was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking in puzzlement at the pile of old gear in the corner.

“Hey,” Aaron said, and tossed him one of the beers. “So, uh. Comfortable?”

Jeff grinned and took a drink. “Getting there.”

Aaron wasn’t quite sure how this part worked, but it turned out to be not that different from with a girl. They drank their beers and smiled at each other a little bit, and then Jeff put his hand on Aaron’s leg, and then they started kissing. Easy.

Jeff gently pushed at him until Aaron went down on his back, laughing a little and trying to scoot up onto the mattress so his legs weren’t left dangling out in space. Jeff settled down against him, chest to chest, and kissed him again. “This is better, right?”

“Sure.” Aaron moved a little, searching for the best way to balance Jeff on him but still be able to breathe and use his limbs. It was kind of interesting, Jeff was heavier than Claudia but not any heavier than Darien, so it was pretty much like wrestling with his brother, except that Jeff wasn’t flinching when their dicks brushed against each other.

Actually, that was probably the point. He was starting to catch on to this.

Jeff pulled back and ran his hands up and down Aaron’s chest. “You’re like the only guy in South Florida who doesn’t wax. I like it.”

“Thanks.” Aaron closed his eyes for a minute, trying to just relax into Jeff’s touch. His body was definitely into this; his dick was getting hard and he felt all warm and flushed. So that was a sign for bisexuality working just fine. Jeff kissed him again and rolled his hips, grinding down against him, and it was like a hot spike going through Aaron’s belly, in a _good_ way.

“You got condoms?” Jeff asked, grinning at him from an inch away. “Or you cool with going bare?”

Aaron’s breath choked off in his throat. “I—uh, I don’t really—“

Jeff paused for a beat, then shrugged and kissed him again. “Not your thing? Okay, cool. Okay if I suck your dick?”

“Uh.” This was different. “Yeah, sure.”

Jeff grinned again and climbed off the bed, tugging Aaron’s swim trunks off as he sank to his knees. “Wow, hi there.”

“Hi,” Aaron said weakly, propping himself up on his elbows to watch as Jeff ran his hands up and down Aaron’s thighs. 

“You are in amazing shape. I’m jealous.” Jeff grinned at him and ducked his head, licking along the curve of Aaron’s dick. Aaron watched in fascination, tensing his stomach muscles to keep his hips still and biting his lip to keep quiet. Watching a guy’s mouth on him was exactly the same as with a girl but not the same at all. The same in all practical ways but different in how he felt about it? Something like that. It was hard to concentrate on figuring it out, and he let the thought go after a minute.

Jeff took him fully into his mouth and Aaron squeezed his eyes shut, still fighting for control. He wanted to win this encounter, win the sex, win the blowjob, and he wasn’t going to be able to win by _performing_ \--he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing and anything good he might do to Jeff’s dick would be fully by accident—so maybe he could win by being stoic.

Jeff pulled off again and pinched his inner thigh. “Don’t be an asshole. Let me hear you.”

Aaron laughed shakily. “Sorry.” Right. Not actually a competition. He needed to stop being such a freak.

Jeff went back to sucking his dick and Aaron tried to relax into it. He let himself moan when Jeff’s tongue flicked across the head, and again, a little louder and more helpless, when Jeff took him deeper. He hoped, in a vague frantic corner of his mind, that if Megan or Mitchell heard him, they’d figure he was watching porn and give him privacy. He had no plan to get Jeff out of the house again. He never should’ve brought him back here in the first place, he can’t remember what he was thinking, just that he _wanted_ to and he felt belligerent about being told what to do and—

Jeff pulled off again. “Dude. You’re seriously not paying attention to me blowing you?”

“I am! I am. Just.” Time for a half-truth, or an incomplete truth. “It’s been a while. And I’ve never not had to, uh, keep it quiet.” He cleared his throat and shrugged, feeling his face flame red. “Thin walls.”

Jeff relaxed a little, running his hands over Aaron’s thighs again. “Well, these walls are pretty sturdy, I think, and you’re hurting my feelings a little with all the distraction, so let’s start again and you try _really hard_ to let me know what you like, okay?”

“Okay.” That was pretty close to the kind of concrete, coaching directions that Aaron knew how to deal with. It was enough to get started, anyway.

So Jeff went down again and Aaron focused on articulating his reactions to it-- _fuck yes_ and _that, yeah_ and one or two _ow_ s and _no no_ s, which Jeff backed off of right away. Aaron might have really figured this out, really nailed it.

Except a heavy knock came on the door, and Mitchell’s voice carried into the room. “Aaron? Did you let the dog out?”

Aaron caught his breath and clenched his fists as tightly as he could, trying to keep his voice level and will his dick to stay hard. “N-no. Just fed him.”

“Okay. I’ll take him out. You think you and me can sit down and have a talk before dinner?”

Oh fuck. Oh, _fuck_. “Y-yeah. Yeah, sure. Before dinner. Not right now, though.”

“All right. But Meg’s still expecting your help in the kitchen shortly.”

That was Jeff’s cue to pull away from Aaron entirely, staring at him with wide, accusing eyes and a rapidly growing angry flush to his face. “Are you fucking _kidding_ me?”

The door handle turned, then stopped. “Who’ve you got in there, kid?”

“You said you lived with a _friend_ , that sounds a whole lot more like your fucking _dad_.”

“He’s not my dad!” Aaron said, sitting up and trying to pull himself into some kind of half-dignity on the bed. “He is my friend. It’s just, uh. It’s kind of… complicated.”

Jeff rolled his eyes, pulling his clothes on in fast, angry movements. “Yeah, I bet. Sugar daddies actually aren’t all that complicated.”

“It’s not like that!”

“Then what is it like?” Jeff stopped, his arms crossed over his chest, the anger in his eyes held back just a little with cautious hope. Giving Aaron a chance.

Which Aaron was absolutely going to chip off the edge of the goal and lose forever. “He’s my… my mentor.”

“Oh _Jesus Christ_ ,” Jeff spit, grabbing his towel and his textbook. “You’re a piece of work.” He crossed to the door and yanked it open, catching himself as his first step brought him chest to chest with Mitchell. “Well,” he said. “At least you’ve got good taste. Bearish and loaded. Next time try being honest about it. I’ll let myself out, it can’t be hard to find the door.”

He left and Aaron fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering if he could concentrate really hard and make himself disappear.

No luck.

Mitchell’s voice was low and controlled and pretty fucking scary. “What the hell was that?”

Aaron couldn’t match the scary, so he went with pretending he didn’t notice it. “Me figuring things out. You told me to.”

“Jesus Christ, kid.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing either, you know. You were all upset about not knowing, but I don’t know either. I’ve never done it before until right now.”

“Well, now I guess you’re ahead of me. Always the fucking prodigy.”

Aaron didn’t really feel himself get up off the bed or cross the space between it and the door, but suddenly he was _there_ , close enough to Mitchell to feel the heat coming off his body. Everything was instinct and anger and a hot sad little need to touch, all of it twisting up together and coming out as his hands hitting Mitchell’s chest and shoving him back as hard as he could, across the width of the hallway and slamming his back into the opposite wall.

“You fucking kidding me, kid? You really want to fight me? Right here in my own house?”

“Knock it off!” Megan’s voice was fierce and loud, maybe the only thing that could’ve cut through to both of them right then. “Right now. What is _wrong_ with you, you’re not children. You’re grown adult men.”

_I’m not_ , Aaron wanted to say, but he couldn’t argue with Megan like this, couldn’t even imagine it. He stepped back, wrapping his arms around himself, suddenly aware that he was still naked and half-hard.

Mitchell stared at him for a moment, then took a deep breath and turned away, walking down the hall, through the living room, and probably down the other hall to the master bedroom, given the sound of a slamming door.

Megan took a deep breath. “Get dressed and come help me cook.”

“What?”

“Get dressed at any rate, but if you would come help me cook, I’d appreciate it. We still have to eat even if the two of you are going at it like… like… I don’t know, I’d say buck deer fighting but you’re more like gorillas or bears or something.”

Aaron swallowed. “Moose maybe.”

“Maybe.” She took a step back. “Put clothes on. That’s step one. It’s very impressive but it doesn’t need to go for a walk just now.”

Aaron retreated into his room, fumbling through the dresser for briefs and sweatpants. A t-shirt was next on his list but he lost his train of thought before he got there. There was something else more important right now, something he could easily avoid and put off if he wanted to but that his guts were saying he needed to take on tonight.

He hurried down the hall and through the living room, picking up speed so he hit a half-run down the other hall to the Mitchells’ bedroom. The room was empty, the door to the bathroom open with steam flowing out into the cooler air. Apparently Mitchell was going with a hot shower to calm himself down. It wasn’t what Aaron would do, but it sparked a memory, even as he marched through the door.

_Months ago, finding out he was staying in Sunrise instead of being sent down to the A to season for a year. Being so fucking excited he forgot to be cool, and bursting in on Mitchell in the shower, blurting out his good news and getting a barely towel-clad hug in return. The moment he really completely felt welcome here. Probably the minute he fell in love with his captain, because his captain loved him back, at least a little._

Mitchell wasn’t actually in the shower yet, stripped down again and scowling at himself in the mirror while the hot water ran and threw out the thick clouds of steam into the air conditioning. “Hey,” Aaron said, breaking into the sound of the water. “ _Hey_.”

Mitchell turned to face him, startled and pulling himself into a defensive stance immediately, but defensive stances practiced on ice, for opponents on skates, didn’t quite work in the small space of the bathroom. Aaron crashed into him, pushing him back up against the wall and pinning him chest to chest, his hands coming up to catch Mitchell’s face and hold him still for a kiss. The kiss was long and deep, hungry and angry and demanding, everything Aaron had felt for months and was feeling now.

“See?” he said, finally pulling back and running his tongue over his lips, bruised from being caught between his teeth and Mitchell’s. “It’s not that goddamn different.”

“I’m too old to change, Aaron.” Mitchell’s voice was tight, wavering. “You should be with someone like that kid you had in your room. Someone who gets this and doesn’t have to go through 101.”

“Bullshit.” Aaron still had him pretty well pinned; he leaned in again, clutching Mitchell’s face tighter, and kissed him again. Mitchell tensed, his body almost breaking into a struggle, but the tension didn’t quite manage to crest before it fell away and Mitchell surrendered beneath him.

“This is not what I signed on for,” Mitchell said quietly, his voice uneven with fear and hope.

Aaron shrugged, still leaning on him, feeling Mitchell’s heartbeat racing in slightly off-beat counterpoint to his. “But it isn’t bad.”

“No. Not bad. Just… weird. Annoying and weird.” Mitchell took a breath and tilted his head back, letting it thump against the wall. “Just like you.”

“You’re not going to throw me out.”

“I told you. I never would.”

“And we’re going to try to figure this out. Together.”

“With Megan.” Mitchell took a deep breath. “If she hasn’t already gotten in the car and decided to get the fuck out of Florida.”

“She wouldn’t.” Aaron’s heart was still pounding, racing, and he couldn’t imagine it ever coming back down. “She wouldn’t. She’s waiting for us to come out there and promise not to be idiots, I bet you anything.”

“I don’t think we can just _stop_ being idiots, can we?”

“You can stop pretending you don’t want to kiss me.”

Mitchell took another breath. “I’m naked in my own bathroom, being aggressively seduced by an overgrown teenager.” He stopped for a moment, then helplessly smiled. “And yeah, I want to kiss him, even though he’s an asshole."

Aaron loosened his pressure on Mitchell enough to let him be as good as his word.

**

When they came out to the living room again, Megan was sitting at one end of the couch, her legs tucked up under herself, her hands pulled up into the sleeves of her house sweater. There were no cooking smells from the kitchen.

“I ordered a pizza,” she said in response to the unasked questions. “You two really stressed me out.”

“And your sous chef was playing hooky,” Mitchell said. “He gets a demerit for that.”

She didn’t quite smile. “Are you two okay?”

Aaron nodded slowly, looking at Mitchell from the corner of his eye to be sure he was doing the same. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

That earned a little more of a smile, but it faded more quickly than Aaron would have liked. “So what are we going to do now?”

Mitchell nodded at Aaron. “This one seems to think he should just hang out and kiss us both.”

“I said I would leave if you want me to.” Aaron wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly very aware that he wasn’t wearing a shirt and that Mitchell was naked. “I’m not, like, making any demands.”

“And I told you we don’t want you to leave, so shut up.”

Megan looked at Aaron, her expression carefully neutral. “You’re sure you want to stay?”

“If you want me to.”

Mitchell started to say something else at that, but Megan held one hand out toward him. “Go put some pants on, okay? At least underwear. Something. It’s very hard to have a serious conversation with that flopping around.”

“So this is going to be a serious conversation?” Aaron asked.

Megan gave him a look that was as close as he’d ever seen her to genuinely pissed off. “I think we’re overdue for a serious conversation, don’t you? Putting it off hasn’t helped anyone.”

“Except his friend he brought back to his room,” Mitchell yells from the bedroom.

Aaron clenched his teeth and counted to ten before he spoke. “I met him on the beach. It wasn’t, like. A big deal. I just wanted to see if Willie was right and I’m bisexual or whatever.”

Megan nodded slowly, the edge of her mouth twitching. “Did you come to any conclusions?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s right. I mean, I liked Jeff, um, going down on me? And I did want to touch him, it wasn’t just, like, being easy for a blowjob.”

“That’s great, Aaron.” Megan coughed and put her hand over her mouth.

It took Aaron a beat to realize that she was fighting not to laugh at him. Jesus. “It’s not funny!”

“No, it’s not. But you are.” She put her hand down, her mouth still twitching with the effort of holding back. “You’re just so earnest. And serious. You take everything _so_ seriously.”

“You just said this was a serious talk,” he said with as much dignity as he could muster. “Quit changing the rules.”

Mitchell came back in team sweats identical to Aaron’s and sat down on the edge of the armchair cushion. “Did you guys make any decisions while I was gone?”

“No. We just talked about how cute and serious Aaron is.” Megan rubbed her face with both hands. “Maybe we’re just trying to screw up a thing that’s working perfectly fine. Surrogate parents and a great houseguest. Why mess it up?”

“Because you think the houseguest is hot,” Mitchell said gently. “And you want him to touch you.”

“I can control myself.”

“The houseguest thinks both of us are hot and wants to touch us, too.”

“I can also control myself,” Aaron said.

Mitchell rolled his eyes. “My point is that neither of you have to, because we’re all okay with this.”

“You’re okay now?” Megan asked, looking at him intently. “You’re sure?”

“I let him kiss me in the bathroom.” Mitchell glanced at Aaron, then back at her. “I think I’m in.”

It was Megan’s turn to look at Aaron, then. “Are _you_ sure? It’s not… normal, and it’s not something you can really talk to anyone about, and that kind of inherently isn’t fair to you. I don’t want you to feel coerced or strange or anything, it’s really important that you be comfortable, and—”

“ _Coerced_?” Mitchell objected. “Who’s coercing anyone into anything? Where did that even come from?”

“You’re his mentor! You could be pressuring him! Maybe he doesn’t feel like he can tell you no!”

“He barely listens to me at all, ever!”

“Hey,” Aaron said, holding his hands up. “Hey! Can I talk?”

Mitchell slumped back in the chair. “Please. Do.”

“I don’t feel coerced. Even though I do listen to Willie, like, all the time. I do _everything_ you tell me, don’t be a jerk.” He hesitated for a moment, then sat down on the floor in front of Megan, looking at her as earnestly as he could. This was never going to turn into something easy, so he might as well put it all out there at once.

“I do want this. I get that it’ll have to be quiet and stuff, and that’s fine. I don’t… I don’t think it has to be all that different than it has been, you know? I’ll help you with dinner, but maybe I’ll kiss you once it’s in the oven. Or we’ll all watch a movie together but make out when it’s over. After games when me and him are all worked up, maybe we’ll mess around and fall asleep together instead of me jerking off by myself in my room. You know? It’s not _that_ different. It doesn’t have to be. It’s just what we’ve been doing and then one more step.”

He stopped, waiting for one of them to react, but they just looked at him. “Right? Or… I don’t know, maybe not. Maybe I’m wrong.”

“He’s smart, too,” Mitchell said with disgust. “He’s cute and he’s talented _and_ he’s smart, give him the fucking Calder and bury me in the backyard. Plant a tree in my memory or something.”

Megan smiled and held her hands out to Aaron. “You’ve definitely got this figured out better than we do. Just one question?”

Aaron let her pull him in closer. “Okay.”

“What are you and him going to do at away games?”

“Not sure.” Aaron closed his eyes as she leaned down and kissed him. “Handjobs in the showers, I guess.”

“Veto,” Mitchell said. “I veto that.”

“Not the _locker room_ shower.” Aaron had to look at Mitchell even if it meant breaking off from kissing Megan, because how could he even _joke_ about that? “The hotel.”

“People might catch on if we suddenly ask to room together, you know?”

Aaron made a face at him and looked up to Megan again, just as the doorbell rang.

“Food,” Megan said, getting to her feet and stepping around Aaron carefully. “This seems like a good stopping place, anyway. We can all take some time to… process it. Think about it. All of that.”

Aaron got up as well and headed to the kitchen for plates and beers. That made sense; a lot had happened in a day. They would eat, sleep on it, and figure it out after practice tomorrow. Perfect.

**

Two weeks later, Aaron was still waiting for something to _happen_.

Yeah, they’d had a lot of games, so there hadn’t been a whole lot of time at home all three of them where he and Mitchell weren’t either totally exhausted or too sore to move, but they could’ve had a follow-up talk, or at least made out a little, or… or _something_. Every time they did end up as a group in the living room he waited expectantly for someone to say something, or make a move, or anything, but instead the two of them would just say goodnight and go off to their bedroom together, and then he’d have to go back to his room and jerk off to Instagram and feel really confused and frustrated.

Two weeks of that was kind of wearing him down.

Finally they had a rest day, and he had a plan. When they got home the night before, he tossed his bag into a corner and ran down the hall to catch Mitchell before he made it all the way to his bedroom. “Hey. Hey, Willie?”

“What’s up?” Willie leaned against the wall, blinking at Aaron wearily. It had been a red-eye, game, red-eye kind of day. Aaron was even flagging a little and usually he thrived on a travel schedule.

“You wanna take the boat out tomorrow?”

Watching exhaustion and the thought of his boat openly warring on Mitchell’s face was one of Aaron’s cheap pleasures. “If I wake up before noon, yeah.”

“The ocean’s still there after noon, you know.”

Mitchell rolled his eyes and swung a punch at Aaron’s arm that missed by at least six inches. “Okay. Yeah. We’ll go out. A sea breeze is good for the soul.”

Aaron nodded, then hesitated a moment, trying to sound casual. “Maybe just the two of us, if that’s cool? Meg probably has stuff to do?”

Mitchell frowned a little, but not suspiciously as Aaron had feared. “I guess. I’ll check with her. The forecast said it’ll be pretty choppy and she’s not a fan of that.”

Aaron had to smile. “You weren’t planning to go out but you still checked the forecast.”

“It’s an island habit. And you’re an asshole. Go away.”

Aaron grinned, dodged another bad punch, and hurried back to his room. Step one was a success. Step two relied on the same tools that had worked the last time on the boat, and with Jeff on the beach: beer, that sea breeze that sent Mitchell into some kind of altered state of chill, and getting shirtless in the sun.

Mitchell’s uncertainty was the sticking point, and Aaron totally understood why. So he was going to set up a drill to get him through it. A good drill set up everybody involved for success, and that gave them confidence, and they could build on that. He’d been a captain before, he knew how to lead this sort of thing.

**

The water was choppy as advertised, which left Aaron wondering if maybe he’d made a mistake. It wasn’t going to be easy to get Mitchell to talk to him about this, much less actually kiss him, if they literally couldn’t keep their balance.

Now that they were out here, though, he wasn’t going to give up and go back without trying.

Like last time, Mitchell took them out and then cut the engine, tilting his head back to study the sky. “This was a good idea,” he said, taking a deep breath and holding it. Aaron watched his face, caught by how Mitchell revelled in this, how he _loved_ this, just as much as he loved being on the ice. Aaron wondered what it was like to have more than one thing that gave you that. He’d only ever have the one.

“Ready to get into the beer?” he asked, aware that his voice was rough and weird. Maybe Mitchell wouldn’t notice over the waves and the wind.

Mitchell looked at him, really looked for a minute, sharper than Aaron was ready for. “Sure,” he said after a moment, with a careless smile, and Aaron let himself relax a fraction. He was being hypersensitive, reading a lot into things. Nerves. He needed to breathe it out and focus on what he was here to do. Like making a play, except he didn’t want to think about it like that. He didn’t want to _beat_ Mitchell or knock him back or anything.

He wanted them _both_ to win. And Megan, too. This was a team thing.

He got the beers and walked back to Mitchell, nodding at the padded seating at the back of the boat. “Let’s sit down, huh?”

Mitchell gave him another curious look. “You’re looking pretty serious for a day off, kid.”

Aaron shrugged and took a drink. “I guess.”

“Everything okay?”

Aaron wiped his mouth on his arm and blinked out at the water. “Have you ever gotten an actual answer when you ask me that?”

“Huh. I guess not.” Mitchell moved back and sat down, stretching his legs out with a low groan. “You play things pretty close to your chest.”

“It’s better than giving people ammunition to hurt you with.” Aaron sat down, too, both hands wrapped around his own bottle.

“You think I’m going to hurt you?” Mitchell’s tone was easy, ready for the teasing back-and-forth they’d gotten so good at while Aaron had billeted with them. “Not real clear on how a D-line works, all of a sudden?”

“I don’t mean beating me up.” Aaron took another drink. “I mean, like, messing with my head.”

Mitchell frowned and sat up a little straighter. “What? Who’s been doing anything like that?”

“Well, you and Megan said we were gonna try this… this whole thing, we had that big talk, and then you both kind of started ignoring me, so I don’t know what’s going on.” Out loud, it didn’t sound anything like it had in his head. He’d pictured it as kind of tough, laying everything out and saying he deserved some kind of answer in return, but instead it comes out uncertain and soft, more hopeful than strong.

Mitchell took a drink and held the beer in his mouth a moment before swallowing and setting the empty bottle aside. “Nobody’s ignoring you.”

“That’s the part you want to go after?”

“Well, it’s not true. Neither of us is ignoring you. I was on a bus with you for however fucking many hours this week, it’s kind of hard to ignore somebody like that.”

Aaron stared at him, his hand clenching around the bottle. All the ways he’d imagined Mitchell reacting, being a total dick wasn’t one of them.

“And you weren’t _here_ ,” Mitchell went on, “so I don’t see how Megan could’ve been ignoring you. So, yeah, I’m gonna go after that part, because it makes the whole thing not make any sense.”

“You’re such an asshole. I can’t believe you.”

“How am I being an asshole? By all means, tell me, I’m sure you’ve got a whole theory going on under all that hair.”

Aaron barely caught himself before his hand could go up to touch his hair. “If you’re not interested anymore you could just say so, you know.”

“It’s not about _interest_ , Jesus, Aaron. I’ve told you. I don’t know how to do this. I’m probably too old to learn how to do this. It’s not as simple as you seem to think it should be.”

“You figured it out pretty well before! In the… in the fucking…” Aaron pitched his bottle over the rail, watching it turn slow spirals before it fell into the waves. “You know, in the bathroom.”

Just saying it made it seem stupid and childish, all flash and no substance, and he realized that must’ve been how Mitchell saw it all along. Going on the boat had definitely been the wrong choice. If they were on land he could bolt, but here he was fucking stuck. Drowning while trying to swim away from a stupid mess of his own making would be a pretty bad way to die.

Mitchell was staring at him, but Aaron wasn’t going to waste any more time trying to read his face.

“I thought you meant it, about trying,” Aaron said. “My mistake.”

“I did mean it. Don’t do that.”

“If you meant it, then why aren’t you _doing_ anything?”

“How many times do I have to tell you, this is difficult--”

“Bullshit.” Aaron stood up and walked to him, bracing himself against the movement of the boat. “I’m right here. I’m standing right here. There’s nobody else around. It’s not difficult.”

“It is, and you need to back off--”

“Just _try_.” Aaron heard his voice break and silently kicked himself, because this would be a great time to not make Mitchell think of him as young or feel sorry for him. “If you try and can’t do it that’s one thing, but you won’t even try, you won’t even _look_ at me, and it’s not fair.”

“I’m looking at you right now, Aaron.”

Aaron turned away, dragging his fingers through his hair. “You’re an asshole.” This had been such a mistake. He should’ve known better; falling in love with the captain was inevitable but you kept that shit hidden. Even if Mitchell was right and only gay or bi guys did it, _those_ guys kept it hidden, and didn’t put themselves out there like this to get hit in the stomach. Rules existed for a reason, including the unwritten and unspoken ones.

He couldn’t hear anything but the ocean or feel anything but the rocking of the boat under his feet, so he jumped about a mile when Mitchell put his hand on his shoulder and turned him around. “Just leave me alone.”

“Shut up.” Mitchell kept one hand on Aaron’s shoulder, bringing the other one up to cup his jaw and hold his head steady. He was frowning, like he was about to make a trick shot or something, and it took Aaron a minute to realize what was going on.

“Don’t do it just to make a point. I mean, forget it, you don’t--”

“Shut _up_.” Mitchell leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t frantic like the kiss at the house; it started slow and tentative and stayed there for a while. Mitchell’s beard rasped against Aaron’s face and his hand tightened on Aaron’s shoulder, fingers pressing in just short of pain. It had to be more for Mitchell to steady himself than to try to keep Aaron still, because Aaron wasn’t trying to pull away.

Mitchell moved back and studied Aaron’s face, still frowning a little. “All right?”

“It’s a start.” Aaron licked his lips, recognizing the sting his girlfriends had complained about. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” He was still frowning, though. “That was nice.”

“You don’t look happy about it.”

“I think I was expecting, like… thunder and lightning, or something.”

Aaron managed to laugh through the tight, breathless feeling in his chest. “I usually make the earth move but I didn’t want to scare you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mitchell shook his head and squared his shoulders in a way Aaron definitely knew from the ice. “I’m gonna try this again.”

The next kiss lingered longer, Mitchell’s tongue slipping carefully against Aaron’s lips. Aaron stepped closer, turning his shoulder to break Mitchell’s grip on it and gently nudging them toward the seating.

“Look at you being all smooth,” Mitchell muttered. “Every father of a teenager in Barrie must’ve had a shotgun ready for you.”

“Whatever.” Aaron took another step, backing Mitchell up to the seat and prompting him to sit, Aaron standing between his knees. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” Mitchell looked up at him, eyes dark and thoughtful. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know how to do any of the, like. Advanced stuff.”

Mitchell snorted with laughter. “Jesus. Neither do I.”

“We could make out.”

Aaron moved slowly to straddle him, giving Mitchell time to push him back. “Jeff, like, went straight to asking me if I wanted sex with no condom. That’s way advanced.”

“I’m glad you didn’t do that in my guest room.” Mitchell settled his hands on Aaron’s hips, staring at his fingers against Aaron’s sweatpants and the heavy curves of muscle beneath them. “You know you’re heavy as shit?”

“Shut up.” Aaron kissed him, hungrier than before but not as desperately as in the bathroom, trying to lead but give Mitchell room to catch up. It felt as good as he’d hoped. Mitchell not pushing him away felt… really, really good. He could show him everything he’d been feeling since the preseason, how much he loved and wanted him. His captain.

Thinking of it that way made his dick twitch, heavy and getting hard in his sweats. He rolled his hips on instinct, grinding against Mitchell’s torso and earning a low groan and Mitchell’s teeth catching at his lower lip.

“Fuck,” Mitchell whispered. “That’s… different.”

“Not bad, right?”

“No.” Mitchell glanced down between them, that thoughtful frown crossing his face again. He reached down, palming Aaron through his sweats, then rubbing roughly. Aaron’s hips jerked and he shut his eyes tight, letting the sensation run through him.

Mitchell laughed softly. “Huh.” He kissed Aaron again, covering his mouth solid and demanding, and rubbed at him more, fitting his hand to the swell of Aaron’s dick.

“Not a stick,” Aaron warned him, rocking his hips into the contact. “Be careful.”

“I could tell. No tape, for one thing.”

“Please don’t tape my dick, dude.”

“I wasn’t planning to.” Mitchell squeezed slowly and it was Aaron’s turn to groan, closing his eyes again and letting himself lean into the steadying weight of Mitchell’s body.

Mitchell eased his hold and went back to fondling him through his sweats, a combination of stroking-rubbing-holding that made Aaron’s breath get ragged in his throat. Mitchell had good hands. This was definitely a goal to work for, being able to do what Mitchell could do with his hands.

“C’mon,” Mitchell said, and Aaron knew that tone, that was the captain talking to the team, and oh _god_ , he liked that. “C’mon, rookie.”

Coming in his sweats was messy and going to be annoying as soon as he tried to move, but right now Aaron didn’t care. He kissed Mitchell through the aftershocks, letting his pulse come down and squirming on his lap to get the last jolts of friction.

“Fuck,” Mitchell said again, with more feeling, squeezing Aaron again and then letting go, pushing his hand down his own sweats instead. Aaron shifted back, bracing himself on his knees to give Mitchell the room to move and guide his dick out, up over his waistband. Aaron licked his lips, watching Mitchell’s hand move fast and tight over hot red flesh, unable to think of anything except how this was really happening. Real. In his life.

When Mitchell came, it got all over Aaron’s sweats as well, some splashing up against his stomach, and he moved without thinking, wiping his thumb through the wet and licking it clean. Mitchell made a noise, low and rough, and Aaron blinked at him, swallowing down the salt-sour taste.

“Okay,” Mitchell said softly, then cleared his throat. “Okay?”

Aaron nodded, easing off his lap slowly. He got to his feet and walked slowly across the deck, easing the tension of kneeling from his muscles and gradually becoming aware of the fabric clinging wetly to his skin. He made a face, pulling it away from himself by the waistband, and glanced over at Mitchell.

“Now what?”

Mitchell wiped his hand over his mouth, looking at Aaron for a moment with weary amusement. “How the hell should I know? You arranged this whole thing today. You’re in charge right now.”

Aaron rubbed the back of his neck. “Another beer?”

“Great idea.”

“And then… back to the house?”

Mitchell nodded. “We should probably tell Meg about this, yeah.”

“And I need a change of clothes, this is gross, dude.”

“How is that any more gross than getting sweaty in your pads?”

“It just is!”

“Wimp.” Mitchell got up and walked to the cooler, pulling out a bottle for each of them. “This isn’t going to change anything, okay?”

“Of course it is.” Aaron shrugged at his look. “I want it to.”

“That’s how I can tell that you’re young,” Mitchell said dryly.

Aaron popped the cap on his beer. “I know you’re not saying you wish this never happened.”

“No, I’m not saying that at all.” Mitchell took a drink, looking out at the waves, then laughed. “I can be complicated, okay? You don’t have me all figured out yet.”

The way he looked at Aaron after he said that made Aaron’s stomach twist up, in a good way, for once. “Give me a couple more months. I’m on it.”

**

“Hey, Ekblad,” Campbell said, stopping at Aaron’s locker. Aaron blinked at him, his head still ringing from a hit in the last seconds of the game, before they put it away. “You coming out with us tonight?”

Aaron turned his attention back to his gear. “Nah, man, I have a thing.”

“A thing?” Campbell nudged his shoulder. “What kind of a thing do you have after a game? Is it a _lady_ thing?”

Aaron bit his tongue and smiled, staring into his locker to keep from giving anything away. “I’m helping Megan cook dinner, actually. I’m her sous chef.”

“Wow, you’re weird, Ekblad.” Campbell shook his head and stepped back, grinning. “You’d rather go back to Mitchell’s and cook than come out with us?”

“I promised, eh? I can’t break a promise.”

“Yeah, yeah. The whole boy-scout thing looks good on you and all.” Campbell turned away, then paused. “So you and Willie worked out whatever your problem was there for a while?”

Aaron’s gaze darted across the locker room, settling on the bare curve of Mitchell’s shoulders as he stripped down for the shower. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re good. Thanks for checking in, man.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want things to get weird, you know?”

“Definitely.” Aaron bit his tongue again, averting his eyes before he got caught either smiling or staring. He knew the rules. Always put the team first. Control your temper in the room unless you really, really can’t. Don’t let things get weird. 

Loving your captain was cool as long as you didn’t act on it. Being hot for your teammate’s wife was never, ever okay.

Know the rules inside-out before you break them. 

If you break them, do it with your whole heart.


End file.
